


Couldn't stand to lose you for real

by WhisperElmwood



Category: South Park
Genre: Depression, M/M, Self Harm, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-06
Updated: 2012-06-06
Packaged: 2017-11-07 00:57:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/425171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhisperElmwood/pseuds/WhisperElmwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kenny is depressed, Kyle tries to cheer him up.</p>
<p>[Short one-shot written about 5 years ago. Apparently I enjoyed writing severely-depressed Kenny back then - be warned.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Couldn't stand to lose you for real

Kenny watched the vibrant liquid slowly run down and then drop.

It sped through the air, light glinting off the tiny globe for a millisecond before it hit the floor with an inaudible splash, sending ripples through the shallow puddle.

He squeezed harshly and watched another drop as it ran and fell into oblivion.

This part always fascinated him. The slow build-up and drip of the warm liquid.

There was a glint of moonlight on metal as he moved his hand. He watched with a small smile as the liquid once again began to collect and then slide and drop, adding it's wealth to the gathering puddle.

He had killed himself three times so far. Each time, he had simply woken up again, with a migraine that just made him want to curl up and retreat from the world forever.

He twirled the blade in his right hand, watching the moonlight glint off its wicked edge, off the liberal streaks of crimson.

He was often told that the world wasn't fair. But that really didn't cut it as an explanation for what he went through. If the world wasn't fair, then he wouldn't be the only one suffering this strange affliction.

He moved the blade over the tanned, criss-crossed skin of his left forearm and watched the blood well up. He held the blade with three fingers and squeezed the wound between thumb and forefinger to force out more blood, smiling to himself as the liquid ran down his arm and dropped to the puddle between his feet.

Constantly suffering through unimaginable pain, dieing through random – and sometimes not so random – acts that were entirely out of his control, had finally driven him to taking his life into his own hands.

He had thought – wrongly – that killing himself would be the one thing to end the suffering. No more random pain and death. No more waking up in his own bed, in a new body, stiff from the after-effects of the latest death. No more nightmares. Just eternal sleep.

After the third attempt, he gave up.

Instead, he turned to the blade he now held against his arm. At least this he could control. This was something he decided to do, something he knew only he controlled, not some random force.

He drew the blade across his skin again and watched as more blood joined the puddle, splashing a few droplets on his shoes. He didn't care – it wasn't like they were new.

He put blade to skin again, this time on the underside of his forearm. The gash was deeper here and more blood welled. He smiled at it and watched it flow.

This was his and only his. He chose when to or not to do this. And if he died of blood loss, he could always start over. It was his.

He blinked and glanced up when he heard footsteps.

They were headed in his direction, so he pulled his sleeve down and pocketed the knife. Stuffing his hands in his hoody pouch, he stared glumly at the floor, ignoring the puddle.

"Kenny?"

He looked up and frowned at the expression on Kyle's face.

"Hey. What are you doing out so late?"

Kyle moved closer and sat on the low swing next to him, eyeing the puddle with a grim expression. "Couldn't sleep. Knew you'd be out here somewhere."

'Here' was the local park. Kenny shrugged dismissively and went back to looking at the floor, still ignoring the puddle.

Kyle began to swing gently, toes scuffing the padded floor.

Kenny ignored him. He wanted to be alone again, so he could continue to prove that he was in control. Continue in his metaphorical 'fuck you, universe'.

His hand itched to pull out the blade.

"I know what you've been doing."

He started and turned to look at Kyle. What? How could he know?

Kyle nodded his chin at the puddle, glinting in the moonlight.

He looked down at it and stared, refusing to meet Kyle's eyes again. This was a private matter, between himself and the universe, Kyle shouldn't get involved.

"Kenny, it's obvious. You think you're proving something, don't you?" He sighed, "But you're not. You're only hurting yourself, making things worse."

How could this be making things worse? How could anything be worse than the universe treating you as it's one and only joke? This was his proof that he was alive, that he could control something in his own life!

He didn't say anything, simply glared at the puddle, as if it was all the puddle's fault Kyle had figured it out.

The sound of the swing next to him stopped and he heard Kyle step away from it. Suddenly, he wasn't looking at the puddle; he was looking straight into Kyle's eyes.

He jerked back.

"Don't," he ground out, teeth clenched together.

Kyle simply blinked, before grabbing his arm and thrusting the sleeve up to his elbow. His skin was puckered with brilliant red wounds, deep red scabs and silvery-pink scars. The fresh blood still seeped and coated his forearm, sliding under Kyle's fingers.

"I knew it."

Kenny tried to pull his arm away, but Kyle's grip only grew stronger.

"Kenny, this is such a stupid thing to do!"

He met his eyes, but turned quickly away; his friend pitied him, he could see it. A hand gently gripped his chin and forced him to look at Kyle again.

"You have to stop. Find something else, something less destructive..."

Kenny closed his eyes and sighed, "Like what?"

He opened his eyes again when he heard a bottle open. Water. Kyle poured some over his arm and attempted to clean away the blood. He was shaking his head. Kenny didn't know if it was because of pity, or because he couldn't think of anything else.

When his arm was clean and the fresh wounds had stopped seeping, Kyle looked back up at him. There was a strange expression on his face, in his eyes.

"What?" He whispered, scared by the expression.

"Please don't do it again?" So quiet, he could barely hear the words.

"Why? Nobody cares if I die, nobody cares if I hurt. This is between me and the universe." He shook his head vehemently, spoke harshly, trying to make his friend understand.

"I care..."

He stared at Kyle, unsure if he had heard right, the whisper was so low. Kyle wasn't looking at him, but at the puddle between his knees as he knelt between Kenny's feet.

"...say that again...?"

Kyle looked back up at him, surprised.

"Say it again." Kenny swallowed, "Please?"

Kyle smiled slightly, "I care about you, Kenny."

This couldn't be real. Nobody cared about him. People laughed when he told jokes, sought him out for illicit information, used him as a punch bag, yelled when the universe played another of its tricks. But no one cared about him. Not even his family cared.

"Kenny?"

He looked up and the movement drew a breeze across his face, almost freezing the streaks on his cheeks. He hadn't realised he'd been crying.

Kyle reached out to him and brushed the tears away with his thumb. His eyes were kind, sad, not pitying as he had thought. He choked slightly and squeezed his eyes shut, forcing back the tears.

There was a warm pressure against his lips.

He opened his eyes and found himself looking directly into Kyle's. He was mere inches away. Had Kyle...kissed him?

Kyle didn't say anything, nor did he move. He simply looked at him, with an air of waiting. Waiting for what?

Kenny blinked. Maybe...?

He closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to Kyle's.

A sigh escaped his lips when Kyle pressed back in return.

Soon they were kissing almost hungrily.

Kenny moved a hand over Kyle's shoulder and felt a hand move into his hair as arms wrapped around him. His body fit perfectly against Kyle's, mouth to mouth, chest to chest, hip to hip.

He felt alive. His pulse was racing, his breath labored, his senses reeled. Kyle tasted earthy, warm; he smelled of home.

Eventually, Kyle pulled away and pressed their foreheads together. Kenny panted, trying to catch his breath, but he smiled his first real smile since he was twelve.

Kyle leaned back slightly and they looked at each other.

"Promise me to stop?"

Kenny closed his eyes as Kyle cupped his cheek. "I'll try my best."

And he would, if it meant he could keep Kyle, if it meant Kyle would be there to kiss away the pain and make him better.

Kyle kissed him again, "Good, I don't think I could stand to lose you for real."


End file.
